Words
by Manawyrmz
Summary: The weather isn't doing you justice, Zexion. Nobody's supposed to be sad on sunny days. Zemyx Oneshot; REPOST


**Re-posted for about the fifth time. This one's not going anywhere anytime soon, I'd hope. Read and review, constructive criticism is always welcome. Constructive being the key word here.**

**If you've favorited this before - sorry for deleting ! I've gone over and edited this so many times it's ridiculous. But I think it's done now.**

* * *

Demyx always sat in the small, poorly lit diner on the quiet side of town. He'd sit in the same booth; one with tattered, graying leather seats that were once stark white. The one with countless pieces of chewed, now colorless gum stuck haphazardly to the bottom of the dark maple wood table. The one that creaked in protest whenever he either sat down or stood for his departure. He always thought of it as though it acknowledged his presence, greeting him and bidding him farewell every afternoon and evening. He'd sit on the left side, the side nearest the door, with his backpack - and often a new stack of library books - sitting as if they were human on the opposite side of the table.

He sat, but never ate or drank a thing. He'd stay for hours, always with an elbow propped up on the tabletop and his chin resting in his palm, and all he did was read.

Almost always, it was music theory.

He didn't often notice much of his surroundings when he read. He did pay slight attention to the softly playing radio of the diner, and the occasional light conversation between customers.

Oh, and he always paid at least a little attention to that one tiny, charcoal-eyed boy with a thick layer of slate hair shielding half of his face behind the counter, always hidden behind a book.

He'd always try to decipher the title, author, anything, of what the boy was reading, but he always seemed to be absorbed in hardcovers; their laminated paper surfaces long removed, and no visible title on the rough cardboard exterior.

It was as much as a mystery to Demyx as the boy was.

* * *

It was a bit unusual for Demyx to have stayed in the diner so late that night. He'd been too engrossed in his novel to bother looking up at the slowly ticking clock above the door. It's been five minutes behind for a while, he noticed.

"... I'm going to be getting home a little later tonight, is that okay?" A small voice said. It was a boys' voice, a rather young sounding one, at that. Demyx noted that that had been the first voice he'd heard in about an hour, and figured it was almost closing time.

Midnight.

But he didn't look up from the tattered off-white pages.

"I know it's getting late but... It's her birthday. Don't you think I owe it to her?" The voice sounded a bit more muffled now.

"If you'd prefer, I can stay up at the house by the lake until tomorrow morning..." Demyx turned a page.

"Yeah. That's fine. I'll call you in the morning." There was a small, barely audible click, and a few ripples of movement behind the counter.

Demyx turned another page.

* * *

Demyx doubted that more than five minutes had passed before the quiet voices of the radio faded entirely, leaving the diner in complete and utter silence.

Except for a few quiet footsteps.

And then the lights shut off, the diner only illuminated by the moon, which shone clearly through the spotless glass windows. Demyx noted the light bulb above his head twitch, an electric current pulsing through it. Demyx then peered over his book, eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the dark wall, a small shadow moving along it. He shut his book loudly, taking note of the number at the bottom of the page - 394 - and stood.

"A-oh. It's just you..." The same voice from earlier squeaked out, almost inaudible over the sudden jingling of keys and Demyx's less- than-silent fumbling to stack up his moderately sized pile of books.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion a bit, not directed towards anything in particular; as he slung his plain, torn, black backpack over one shoulder, picking up his new books in his other arm. He turned towards the voice of the stranger slowly, intending to ask them what they meant by their previous statement, but paused momentarily before anything could escape his vocal chords.

He wasn't a stranger - not really.

"... What do you mean 'It's just me'?" He asked, checking once over the seat to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before walking towards the front entrance, where the boy stood, fumbling with a set of keys in his hand.

"O-oh, nothing, just that I recognize you... Considering you're here every afternoon..." He couldn't help but notice a slight shade of pink creeping up the boy's pale cheeks.

"Ah, so you've noticed." He said, angling his face towards the ground so he couldn't see the slight quirk of his lips into a smirk.

"W-well, considering you... And..." He trailed off, turning away.

"Tch," Demyx scoffed, "Don't worry, I've made quite a few observations of my own." He offered a slight smile, which the slate-haired boy returned half-heartedly.

"I-" He was interrupted by a loud jolt of thunder, and he jumped, higher than Demyx thought he could, considering the boy's height; the top of his head just barely reached Demyx's chin, and Demyx wasn't particularly tall.

Demyx noticed how his eyes had grown wide - in fear, he assumed, but watched closely as his expression melted into one of calm and determination. The charcoal eyes didn't leave the glass windowpanes, as he watched the rain droplets race each other down the slick surface. Demyx cursed under his breath. He hadn't brought an umbrella, and the books he was holding wouldn't fit in his backpack. He figured he'd have to sit in another store, hopefully one open 24 hours until the storm settled down.

The boy with the black eyes turned back to him. He no longer seemed nervous, or scared. But now he seemed kind of... Sad. The moon had stolen the light in his eyes.

"Would you like me to drive you home?"

Demyx blinked - he hadn't expected such an offer from someone he barely knew - someone who barely knew him.

"That'd be much appreciated, thank you." He nodded.

The boy cast him a glance, and then tore his eyes away as he pulled open the door. It was one that opened inward, and caused a little bell to ring when it did.

He could just barely hear it over the pouring rain.

"I'm parked right out front..." He eyed the stack of books in his left hand, before removing his jacket - even though all he was wearing was wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt underneath - and draping it over the stack. He looked up at Demyx, and cobalt met green. "Cover the books."

And then he was speeding out the door. Not quite running, but too fast to be walking. Soon enough, he opened the door to a small, black mini-van. Once he was seated on the drivers' side, he opened the door to the passenger seat, nodding his head to Demyx.

He thought this whole thing was ridiculous and absurd.

But he walked towards the van anyway, not really caring that he was getting wet - or that his blonde, mulleted hair was starting to droop just a bit and his bangs were sticking to his face in thin, wet, clumps. As he settled down into the black leather seat, he brushed his hair away from his face. Just a bit, but it didn't do much. The boy was staring at him, he could feel it. But Demyx pretended not to notice. He took his now soaked jacket off of the stack of books and threw it aimlessly towards the trunk, not caring where it landed.

"You can set those in the passenger seat if you'd like." He nodded towards the books, slate hair moving a bit from his face with the small motion.

"I'll hold on to them, but thank you." Demyx responded, trying to be as polite as possible to the kind diner employee.

"I'm Zexion, by the way." He set his hands firmly on the steering wheel.

"Demyx." He glanced at Zexion from the corner of his eyes.

He was smiling.

And soon enough, so was Demyx.

* * *

Not long after pulling out of the parking lot did Demyx notice a small Polaroid photo of a girl - probably not older than 15 - taped to the dashboard. It was blurry. And the photo was torn around the edges, crinkled, and had some dark spots scattered on it, as if it'd gotten wet somehow." Who is she?" Demyx asked, choosing not to put on his seatbelt due to the stack if books in his lap.

"My sister." Zexion glanced at the photograph.

His smile faded as he did.

"You didn't take my address." Demyx changed the subject.

Red light.

Stop.

Zexion turned to look at Demyx for a moment," We're going to a birthday party, because I'm pretty sure you don't have anything else to do tonight." Demyx furrowed his eyebrows. The torrential downpour was slowing down, and now he was being forced to attend the birthday party of somebody he didn't know.

"I'd much rather jus-"

"She'd like you." Zexion turned her attention back towards the road.

Demyx hesitated.

"Who would?"

"My sister."

Green light.

Go.

* * *

The rest of the ride was silent. The screeching of the wheels was louder than Demyx had ever heard before.

Creepier.

The rain had come to a complete halt, but there were still droplets sliding down the passenger side window. The windshield wipers had ceased action. And it seemed that Zexion had ceased breathing behind the wheel.

"Are you okay?" Demyx asked,

"Fine," He nodded, turning into an empty driveway. Demyx hadn't noticed how far they'd gone. He'd been too busy distracting himself with questions -unanswerable questions. Who was Zexion? Why am I here? He shook his head, and spoke one of his questions aloud.

"Where are we?"

"My house."

"Is this where the party is?" Demyx didn't see anybody. Or anything. It seemed like a pretty boring place to have a party, but that was kind of good thing for Demyx.

Quiet.

He didn't really like parties anyway.

"No."

The car came to a complete stop, and Zexion stepped out the door as soon as it did. "Leave your stuff in the car." He muttered before slamming the door and walking up to the door of the house, pushing it open without the use of a key. The car shook from the impact of the slamming door. Demyx did as he was told, and left his books on his seat as he climbed out of the passenger side and threw his backpack under the seat.

He followed Zexion into the house.

It looked old - it was built up of bricks. Old, tattered, red and brown bricks. There was some chalk writing by the door, but it was long faded - illegible. When he stepped inside, he didn't expect what he saw. Actually, he wasn't quite sure what he expected in the first place, but it definitely wasn't this. The lights were off, and there were just a few candles scattered around the house.

"Uhm... Why are th-"

"We don't pay the electric bill." Zexion said, sitting on the couch in front of a candle. He was staring into the flame. Demyx nodded, looking around a bit, playing with a few odd trinkets he found on a few shelves by the door. He decided not to ask what they were or why Zexion had them.

"Ready to go?" Zexion stood, brushing off his dark jeans and grabbing a candle and a lighter from the top of the table before him. It was a different kind of candle, Demyx noticed. A birthday candle.

"I suppose..." Demyx shrugged.

Zexion held open the door for him, clutching the candle and lighter in his fisted hand.

They walked up to a dark heavy gate, and the air suddenly lost its sweet, post-rain smell. The new smell made Demyx wonder if the scent of wilted grass was any different than that of it's freshly dewed form. The atmosphere was tense - Demyx noticed - as Zexion pushed open the gate. It swung open with a loud creak - and Demyx figured it hadn't been oiled in a while. Demyx hesitated at the gate. There were tombstones not ten feet in front of them. Zexion didn't, he strode right through. Demyx watched him until he kneeled in front of one, stark white in comparison to the other stones.

It was relatively new. He wasn't sure if he should go sit next to him or not, but after a few seconds of contemplation, he decided he should.

The ground was wet, but neither of them complained.

_Here lies Fuujin Sakushi._  
_Born July 7th, 1995_  
_Died August 17th, 2010_

Demyx glanced at Zexion. He hadn't said anything, but he had already planted the candle in the ground, and was flicking the lighter on and off in his hand. "Hey Fuu, happy birthday." Zexion's blank expression hadn't changed. Neither had Demyx's.

"I bought a friend. You'd like him." He smiled just a bit. So did Demyx at having been called Zexion's friend so casually. They sat there a few more minutes - neither of them speaking. Before long, Zexion lit the candle and stood up. Demyx stood after him.

He glanced between Zexion and the stone, and then held out his hand to his new friend, and stuffed the other one in his pocket, a sheepish smile on his face.

Zexion eyed him, glancing back and forth between his face and his hand, before taking it in his own. They walked out of the graveyard in silence, and Zexion lead him towards the lake - in the opposite direction of the small house.

* * *

"So what are you?" They sat on the dock, hands still clasped together. Zexion's grip almost seemed desperate - sad.

Demyx was confused.

"A human, a male, a teenager..." Demyx trailed off.

"A sarcastic jerk." Zexion rolled his eyes at Demyx's response.

"Well I'm not quite sure what I'm meant to say." Demyx flipped his bangs out of his face for just a moment - but it resumed its usual place within seconds.

"What do you do?" Zexion clarified, a small smile passing his lips.

"Breathe." Demyx blinked.

Zexion narrowed her eyes at him - and he swore he felt his grip tighten just a bit. Demyx chuckled. "I write sometimes, and read… And I'm a musician." He shrugged. He looked back out at the lake - noting the way the stars shimmered - reflected.

"Funny," Demyx was looking at the night sky as Zexion spoke - the dark rain clouds were long gone now. "That's what I do too."

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither spoke, but both were entranced by the beauty of their surroundings. It was so much nicer than the city - Demyx thought. Traverse Town was always far too bright - too loud - for his liking. Yet he'd never left the city limits.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

Demyx was caught off guard. "Why would I?" His eyebrow rose.

"I doubt you've ever thrown a birthday party for a rock." Zexion muttered

"It's not just a rock; it's your sister..." Demyx shrugged. "I guess I'm just lucky I've never been given the opportunity to do so." Zexion is silent. Demyx waits a moment to continue.

"You miss her?"

Zexion gave him a weak smile and a nod. "For some reason,"

Demyx nodded, understanding.

"It's so different now, talking to her, I mean."

Demyx waited for him to continue. "She used to do most of the talking... Well, not really talking, but… I mean… She never really said more than three words at a time but still… I was the one that listened." Zexion smiled just a bit, "It's strange knowing how she's finally listening to me."

Demyx glanced at Zexion, but then back down at the glistening, rippling lake. "I'm sure she's always been listening – you've just never noticed until now."

Zexion nodded.

"How long do you leave the candle there?" Demyx was curious - he couldn't imagine Zexion going back to blow it out,

"Until the wind blows it out, or until it melts." He shrugged.

Demyx nodded, hoping he wasn't probing too far.

"If you don't mind me asking... How..."

"Car accident."

"Oh."

"Her friend was driving her home from school one afternoon; drunk guy hit them." Zexion seemed to take a deep breath, not sure if he should continue. "Killed her right away, at the angle he hit them. Her friend was in a coma for a while, but he's fine."

"I'm... Sorry." Demyx suddenly felt inadequate. Like he was five again and his parents told him not to worry about big people problems. This felt so much bigger than him. Zexion just nodded in appreciation.

"You don't have to answer everything I ask you know." Demyx assured him

"I want to," Zexion closed his eyes. "It helps."

He paused.

"It's a small town, up here, I mean," he started to say. "Word got around fast. They held a memorial for her, here at the lake. Everyone said a few things... Some people cried. Family, y'know?"

Demyx nodded.

"We had to move – our mom couldn't deal with living here anymore. But I like to come back to visit. To see her… And the lake." Zexion's eyelids seemed to flutter just a bit - glinting. "Isn't it nice?" His eyes shot open, and he stared straight at Demyx.

"The lake, I mean."

Demyx nodded again.

"Kind of scary though. Bigger and deeper than all of us." Zexion paused. "I can't help but think that it swallowed my sister."

"You talk about it as if it's a monster, it's just a lake." Demyx shifted a bit.

"That's what I see."

Demyx kind of saw it then. Not a monster that swallows people whole, but a surface made of silk, untouched, and glowing. The stars were reflected like little blue eyes, smiling up at him.

He almost smiled right back at them.

He glanced back over to Zexion, and the same scene was reflected in his eyes. But somehow, it was entirely different. The stars weren't smiling at him; they were frowning. Whispering apologies.

Crying.

"We should head back," Zexion suggested as he began to pull them both to their feet.

Demyx noticed their fingers were still intertwined.

* * *

Back at the old house, Zexion sat in front of the crackling fireplace. Unfortunately for Zexion, Demyx had decided he wanted to take a swim right before they had left the dock.

Well, decided wasn't really the word for it.

He slipped.

Zexion had laughed it off at first – he figured he could let it go since he hadn't smiled this much in months. But now that his teeth couldn't stop chattering and his bones were shaking, he wasn't quite as happy. Luckily for him, Demyx had an extra sweater in his backpack and had lent it to him as an apology.

"Feeling better?" Demyx asked, sitting next to Zexion and handing him a cup of hot chocolate that he'd found in the cupboards of the small kitchen. He took a sip of his own with a small smile, "I'm sorry again, by the way… I would love to say I'm not usually this clumsy, but that would be a lie."

Zexion chuckled a bit, "It's alright," He gratefully took the mug from Demyx's hand, blushing slightly as their fingers brushed against each other for the second time that day. "Really, this is one of the best days I've had in a while."

Demyx nodded as he stared into the fire, attempting to stifle a yawn, but failing. "Same here."

Zexion smiled and glanced at his phone, which was sitting next to him on the floor, and checked the time.

3:02 AM.

"Are you tired? You could spend the night here, if you'd like… Or I mean, I could drive you home too… Whichever." Zexion shrugged, hoping he'd go for the former.

"Um… Nah, I won't make you drive around at this hour alone." Demyx smiled. "I'll sleep on the couch I guess, thanks."

"We have a guest room…" Zexion hid his face with his hair, glancing down at the carpet.

"That works too," Demyx chuckled a bit, having already discovered that room when he had gone to explore the house earlier.

Neither spoke for a few minutes, but soon enough, Demyx shuffled a bit, clearing his throat in the process.

"Hey Zexion,"

Zexion finally looked up after having been staring at the carpet for far too long. Before he could get the chance to respond, there was another pair of warm lips on his.

Zexion didn't know how long they sat there like that, with their lips moving slowly against one another's' and their eyelashes brushing against each other's cheeks, but it was over much too quickly. Demyx pulled away, and Zexion's eyes fluttered open once again, disappointed. Blinking once at Zexion, he leaned towards him and kissed the top of his head before standing.

"Sorry about that, I was… curious." Demyx smiled sheepishly at his companion, who was blushing furiously at this point. "Well, goodnight Zexion." He didn't say anything else as he walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing through the small house.

Zexion smiled when he heard a door swing shut.

* * *

That night Demyx failed to find any sleep. He stayed up a good two hours writing. He wrote a few things: a letter, a song, and a few poems, although he ended up crossing out everything but the song in the end.

Right as he'd set his rugged old leather-binded notebook on the bedside table, the door creaked open, and Zexion's silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the windows behind him.

"Couldn't stay away?" Demyx smirked to himself.

Zexion didn't answer, he just walked in and shut the door behind him. His footsteps were silent, and he was just about invisible now that the light was gone. Demyx had lost track of him until there was a dip in the bed and Zexion was suddenly hovering over him.

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked, his breath just brushing Demyx's neck.

"I was writing."

"Hm." Zexion answered before kissing him lightly, pinning Demyx between his arms, but pulling away quickly. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" Demyx asked. He didn't know he'd done anything that warranted thanks.

"For today. For everything." Zexion nuzzled his face into Demyx's neck and let out a deep breath, and Demyx wrapped his arms protectively around the other's waist.

"I should be thanking you, I think."

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course."

* * *

Parked outside Demyx's house the next morning, they sat in Zexion's van. Not really speaking, but enjoying each others' company.

"Hey, Zexion?" Demyx started, clutching the pile of books in his hands.

"Hm?" Zexion turned to him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I'm having a bit of a... get together, with a few friends next weekend. You should come." Demyx glanced at him.

His expression changed, it wasn't quite as light anymore. "They'd like you." He knew Zexion was pretty different from the people he generally associated himself with - particularly Axel and Sora, but he figured he'd get along well enough with Roxas and Riku pretty well - they were quiet too.

Zexion hesitated a bit, biting his lip - torn.

"As much as I'd like to, I have other plans." Zexion shook his head. "Thank you though." He smiled at Demyx.

He frowned just a bit, but nodded. "Uhm… Zexion, do you think we could go out or something sometime… I… I really like you…" Demyx muttered, shifting a bit in his seat. "Or not, either is fine…"

Zexion blinked. "I'll have to get back to you on that…" He offered a sheepish smile to his new… friend.

Demyx nodded with a smile and stepped out of the car, purposely leaving a book on the seat. He didn't bother checking to see which one; he just hoped it'd be an excuse for Zexion to call him sometime, or even drop by to return it.

Anything that'd make sure they'd see each other again soon.

Zexion didn't notice.

He waved Zexion off as he shut the door, watching his car pull out of the driveway until it was out of sight.

He sighed and turned on his heels, walking straight into his house without any hesitation - and bounding up the stairs.

Not long after he settled down in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, did his mom peek her head through the door.

"Where were you last night?" She whispered.

"Slept over at Axel's." He shrugged. He figured it was best he lied.

"Oh really?" She waggled her eyebrows.

Demyx almost laughed. "Not interested."

She shrugged, "Your loss," she chuckled before closing the door. Demyx drifted off to sleep within seconds.

* * *

The next day, Demyx received a call from Zexion. Trying not to seem too anxious, he made sure to pick up on the second ring. Zexions voice was muffled, and he sounded tired.

"Hey Demyx… are you busy today?"

"Nope," Demyx smiled. He had plans with Axel, but he could always reschedule.

"Wanna come over?"

* * *

That night, after driving Demyx home, Zexion drove back up to the house by the lake. He laid in Fuu's old room, unable to find sleep. The bed hadn't been touched since the day she died – it remained unmade and covered in strands of cat fur – which was odd, because they'd never had a cat. The paint on the walls was still peeling, since Fuu liked to do that whenever she was bored. She found peeling paint fascinating in ways that made no sense to anybody but her. The bedside table still held a 'to-do' list, although the ink was slightly faded by now, and everything except for the phrase 'Cat food.' was crossed out.

The entire day, while the sun peeked through the blinds and Zexion's eyes darted across the same page of the notebook that had been left in the passenger seat, he thought only of the words scribbled across the page:

_Woke up and wished that I was dead_

_With an aching in my head_

_I lay motionless in bed_

_I thought of you and where you'd gone_

_and let the world spin madly on_

_Everything that I said I'd do_

_Like make the world brand new_

_And take the time for you_

_I just got lost and slept right through the dawn_

_And the world spins madly on_

_I let the day go by_

_I always say goodbye_

_I watch the stars from my window sill_

_The whole world is moving and I'm standing still_

_Woke up and wished that I was dead_

_With an aching in my head_

_I lay motionless in bed_

_The night is here and the day is gone_

_And the world spins madly on_

_I thought of you and where you'd gone_

_And the world spins madly on._

And how maybe Demyx would be the only thing he'd regret leaving behind.

* * *

It'd been a week. Demyx still went to the diner every day. Every single day at noon, he'd walk through the door.

He didn't see Zexion behind the counter.

* * *

Two more weeks passed.

Still no Zexion.

That day he asked the manager what'd happened to him, hoping he didn't sound too worried.

"He quit about two weeks ago without explanation, haven't heard from him since – sorry kid." The woman with the long, light brown braid down her back told him. Her bright green eyes looked just as sad as he felt, but he just smiled and offered a 'thank you' in response.

* * *

Demyx went home to a letter waiting on the counter, with a neon blue post it on it. It was scribbled in his mother's handwriting.

"This came for you this morning. Who's Zexion? Anyway, looks important, I didn't open it." The post-it said.

Demyx had never gotten a funeral invitation before.

* * *

At the funeral home, Demyx sat at the back - away from Zexion's family and relatives.

Zexion meant a lot to him - even before that night. But Demyx was sure he didn't mean much to Zexion. After that night, Zexion meant everything to him. And he'd hoped Zexion's feelings had changed too.

He noticed another girl sitting in the back too, but not near him. She looked like she'd been crying.

Zexion's mom was sobbing by his casket, retching loudly. His dad locked eyes with Demyx and nodded. Demyx nodded back, and the man turned away, consoling his wife.

"Demyx right?" The girl he'd noticed earlier took the seat in front of him, turning it to face him.

Her short jet black hair was just barely covering one eye too.

"That's me." Demyx nodded.

"Zexion tells me you're a writer."

Demyx hesitated.

He'd been spoken about?

"I guess he gave me a lot to write about."

The girl smiles at him and her glistening blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "He said he liked your poem."

"Actually, it was a song I never got a chance to play."

* * *

Demyx sits by the lake, a pen and journal in his hands. It's such a different atmosphere this time. The sun is shining brightly, illuminating the lake in a far different way than the stars had that one night.

He writes.

"The weather isn't doing you justice Zexion, nobody is supposed to be sad on sunny days."

His hand pauses, but before long, he keeps going.

"I went back to your house. I found my notebook and my sweater, thanks for keeping them."

He'd found a note on the inside of the notebook, on the front inner cover. The note was on an old, crumpled up and torn piece of looseleaf. "I think I may have loved you. But it just wasn't enough. I'm sorry, and thank you." Was all it said. There wasn't even a signature, but one wasn't really necessary anyway.

"It made me smile, although I'm not really sure why" he continued. "I kept everything else in order - I figured you wouldn't appreciate a mess." He thought for a moment. "And I finally figured out what you've been reading all this time." His lips quirked upward, almost genuinely happy, "I've never read much of Shakespeare – although I should've pinned you as the type."

* * *

A year passed.

It was June 6th.

"Your friend Xion told me you liked my writing, so I figured It'd be a good birthday present." Demyx spoke to Zexion's tombstone, the smallest of smiles passing over his face. "We've kept in touch."

He drops an envelope on the ground in front of his tombstone. It was labeled 'Words'

"I wrote you a story."

He didn't speak for a while. The envelope was loosely sealed.

"Its non-fiction, I don't know if you like that."

He paused.

"It's kind of sad, I don't know if you like that either."

"Happy Birthday Zexion." He stood up and walked away towards his car, which was waiting for him just outside the cemetery gates.

* * *

**Reviews would be appreciated c:**


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